


Unabashed

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [272]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: unabashed: adjective: un - uh - BASHT: not embarrassed or ashamed by something that has happened or been done or saidfrom Merriam - Webster:To abash is to shake up someone's self-confidence or self-possession, as illustrated by Charlotte Brontë in her 1849 novel Shirley: "He had never blushed in his life; no humiliation could abash him." When you are unabashed you make no apologies for your behavior, but when you are abashed your confidence has been shaken and you may feel rather inferior or ashamed of yourself. English speakers have been using abashed to describe feelings of embarrassment since the 14th century, but they have only used unabashed (brazenly or otherwise) since the late 1500s. Both words can be traced back to the Anglo-French word abair, meaning "to astonish."





	Unabashed

The first time Lestrade noticed, he considered for a moment, then looked at John, then at Sherlock and shook his head. "Nahhhh."

"Shhh..." Sherlock was kneeling by the latest corpse, eyes closed, hands in the normal 'do not disturb' pose. John was across from him, simply observing...and yet, Lestrade noted, it seemed a bit more than that.

"Dead about -" John murmured as he began his examination.

"12 - 14 hours." Sherlock nodded, then opened his eyes and gazed down not at the body that lay between them, but at John, with a brief look of such unabashed.. what was it? Lestrade frowned and bit his lip...fondness? Yes - Sherlock was actually -

"Strangled, my best bet, with the bruising, and -"

"her own belt." Sherlock was standing now, glaring at Lestrade in that way that meant something was expected. A response of some sort.

"Right. Belt. But there's no -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shoved his mobile in the DI's face. "Brand new dress, this year's design, very smart, expensive -"

"So, the killer took it with him..."

"Or her, find the belt, Gr - Greg."

 

The next time happened when he stopped by to drop off a stack of cold cases in response to an early morning SOS.

 

He's bored. Need a case, or two or ten. - JW

Fresh out. - GL

ANYthing. Please? - JW

Give me half an hour. - GL

Thanks, mate. - JW

 

When he got there, he found an exhausted John on the couch, his fingers gently untangling Sherlock's mad mess of curls, as the detective slept uneasily, obviously fighting a bad cold.

"How long?"

John yawned and looked down at Sherlock with a gaze that Lestrade could only call loving.

"Three long days."

Lestrade shook his head and cleared his throat before mumbling softly, "No. I mean, how long -"

John glanced up at him and bit his lip. "If I'd been smarter it would've been years ago, but, it's only been a couple of months."

"Ah. Since that one case? The belt -" Lestrade muttered mostly to himself.

"Yeah - how'd you know?" John asked in a hush as Sherlock shifted with a moan.

"Shhh, I'm here. Go back to sleep, love." Sherlock nodded and snuggled closer to John.

"How'd you know, Greg?" John repeated, giving him a curious look, softened by a trace of a smile.

"There was just something - how you looked at him, how he looked at you, when you weren't looking on that case. No worries, I don't think anyone else knows - not that I think -" Greg closed his mouth and knew his face had flushed a dark shade of pink.

"No. It's okay, Greg. I don't care, never have cared what people think. But he thought -" John returned his gaze to the man in his arms and sighed. "I almost waited too long, Greg, but that night after we got home - I told him, I realized that I had been an idiot."

"Still are," Sherlock grumbled in a hoarse voice. "Give me a couple days, Graeme, and I'll clear those for you."

Lestrade laughed and gave a mock salute. "Feel better soon."

Sherlock nodded in John's arms and was soon fast asleep again. Lestrade let himself out and climbed back into his squad car.

"So, how are the lovebirds?" Donovan growled.

"They're - how long have you known, Donovan?"

"Really, sir? I'm not a moron no matter what His Poshness thinks of me, I do know what love looks like, and those two -" She rolled her eyes upward towards 221B and grinned. "Those two have one of the worst cases I've ever seen."

Lestrade was silent for a moment, then gave a bark of laughter and shook his head. "Come on, Donovan, let's get back to work."

"Sir."


End file.
